The Vulpix who went to Heaven
by Mew3692002
Summary: This is a story about a poor artist that acquires a little Vulpix. It is based on the story of The Cat who went to Heaven by Elizabeth Coatsworth. Now complete!
1. Great Fortune arrives!

The Vulpix who went to Heaven

By Mew3692002

Disclaimer: I do not OWN any of the Pokemon, but I do own these off-shoots of Pokemon that I made and my other OCs, or the original idea for the story of "The Cat who went to Heaven" by Elizabeth Coatsworth. I don't even own the copyright for the book by Scholastic Inc. and the Macmillan Company. So you can't sue me! Although you should really read the actual book!

_I wanted to write this for so long, so I hope you enjoy it!_

Once upon a time, far away in Kanto, a poor young artist sat alone in his little house, waiting for his housekeeper who went to the store to come back, and he sat sighing to think of all the things that she would bring back. This artist was very poor but also young enough so that he did suffer the effects of old age, his hair was yellow and he was more of a normal height (5 ft. 7). He dressed in clothes that were once nice blue robes, but from constant use turned into rags that just hung onto his body. His face was dirty from having to sit on the floor because he had no table in which to do his artistry.

He expected her to hurry in at any minute, arriving through the door and showing him what food she had brought with the last amount of money he had. He heard her step in and jumped up. He was very hungry! But the housekeeper just stood by the door, and the basket she usually put the food in stayed shut. "Come," he ordered, "what is in the basket?" The housekeeper shivered and held onto the basket tight in her arms. "It seems that we are very lonely in this house."

Her aged face looked humble and downcast. "Lonely!" said the artist. "I should think so! How can we have guests of any sort when we have nothing to offer them? It is so long since I have tasted any sweets that I have forgotten what they taste like!" And he sighed again, for he loved chocolate, cakes, and little cupcakes filled with jelly beans.

He loved tea served in expensive china cups, among friends, seated on the low seats he called his chairs, talking about the many types of Pokemon that inhabit the area around his house. But weeks and weeks had gone by since anyone had bought even the smallest painting. The poor artist was glad enough to have rice and some sort of Magikarp now and then. If he did not sell another picture soon, he would not have even that.

His eyes went back to the basket. Perhaps the old woman had managed to pick up a turnip or two, or even an apple, too ripe to haggle over. "Sir," said the housekeeper, seeing the direction of his look, "it has often seemed like I was kept awake by Rattata." At that the artist laughed out loud. "Rattata?" he repeated. "Rattata? My dear housekeeper, no Rattata come to such a poor house such as this, one where the smallest crumb is yet to be found."

Then he looked at the housekeeper and a look of suspicion crossed his dirty face. "You have brought us home nothing to eat!" he said. "Yes," said the housekeeper sorrowfully. "You have brought home a Meowth!" answered the artist. "No, I could not afford a Meowth, but I could afford a Vulpix." answered the housekeeper.

Then the artist jumped onto his feet, and strode up and down the room continuously, pulling his hair, and looked as if he would die of hunger and anger. "A Vulpix? A Vulpix?" he cried. "Have you lost your mind? Here we are starving and you must bring home a little fox demon, a demon to share what little we have, and perhaps to suck our blood at night? Yes! It will be just darling to wake up in the dark and feel little teeth at our throats and look into the eyes as big as lanterns! But maybe your are right! Maybe we are so miserable it would be a good thing to have us die at once, and be carried into the jaws of a demon!" "But master, master, there are many good Vulpix's too!" cried the old woman.

"Have you forgotten the little boy who drew all the pictures of Vulpix on the doors of the deserted temple and then went to sleep in his bed and heard a racket in the middle of the night? And when it was morning, he found a giant Rattata lying dead in front of him, the Rattata that attempted to kill him! Who destroyed the Rattata master, tell me that? It was his own Vulpix, there they sat on the doors as he drew them, but there was blood on their claws and muzzles! And he became a great artist like yourself. Surely, there are many good Vulpix out there!" Then the old woman began to cry. The artist stopped and looked on as her tears fell like shimmering diamonds from her bright brown eyes and ran down the wrinkles on her cheeks. Why should he be angry? He had gone hungry before.

"Well, well," he said, "sometimes it is good fortune to have even a devil in the household. It keeps other demons away. How I suppose this Vulpix of yours will wish to eat. Maybe it can be arranged for us to have some Poke chow in the house. Who knows? We can't be any worse than we are now." "There is not a more tender heart in the whole town than my master's," she said, and prepared to carry the covered basket into the kitchen. But the artist stopped her. Like all artists he was curious.

"Let us see this creature," he said, pretending he scarcely cared whether he saw it or not. So the old woman put down the basket and opened the lid. Nothing seemed to happen for the moment. Then a round, pretty, red head came slowly above the bamboo, and two big brown eyes looked around the room, and little black paws appeared above the rim.

Suddenly, without moving the basket at all, a little red Vulpix jumped out on the floor, and stood there as a person might who didn't know if they were welcome. Now that the Vulpix was out of the basket, the artist saw that she had six huge curled tails that were bright red as well its curled fur on the top of her head. Her fur was very smooth and luxurious as well and its eyes seemed to shed an air of innocence. "Oh, a six-tailed Vulpix," said the artist. "Why didn't you say so from the beginning? They are very lucky Pokemon, I understand. As soon as the Vulpix heard him speak so kindly, she walked over to him and bowed down on her head as though she was saluting him, while the old woman was overjoyed.

The artist forgot he was hungry. He had seen nothing so lovely as their Vulpix for a long time. "She will have to have a name," he declared, sitting down again on the floor while the cat stood sedately before him. "Let me see: she is like the morning sun rising in the morning; she is like a white flower two Beautifly have alighted on." But here he stopped. For a sound unlike what he has ever heard now filled the room.

"How cool!" sighed the artist. "This is better than rice." Then he said to the housekeeper, "We have been lonely, I see now." "May I suggest," said the housekeeper, "that we call this Vulpix Great Fortune?" Somehow the name reminded the artist of all his troubles.

"Anything will do," he said, getting up and tightening his belt over his empty stomach, "but take her to the kitchen now, out of the way." No sooner did the words escape his mouth than the little Vulpix rose and walked away, softly and meekly.

To be continued…

_So what do you think so far, please review this if you like Vulpix!_


	2. The joy!

The Vulpix who went to Heaven

By Mew3692002

Disclaimer: I do not OWN any of the Pokemon, but I do own these off-shoots of Pokemon that I made and my other OCs, or the original idea for the story of "The Cat who went to Heaven" by Elizabeth Coatsworth. I don't even own the copyright for the book by Scholastic Inc. and the Macmillan Company. So you can't sue me! Although you should really read the actual book!

_I hope all of you like this story! There is a reason why I am writing this other than what most of you might think, but I can't tell you why just yet!_

The next morning the artist found the Vulpix curled up in a ball on the artist's pillow. "Ah! You have chosen the softest place in the house!" said he. Great Fortune immediately rose, and began to stretch as well as shake the sleep out of her eyes. When the housekeeper came back from the store and cooked a small meal, Great Fortune did not go near the stove, though her shimmering eyes wandered towards it from time to time and her luxurious tails quivered slightly with hunger.

She happened to be present when the old woman brought in a low table and set it up before her master. Next came a bowl of Magikarp soup—who knows how the housekeeper must have bargained and haggled to get that fish! But Great Fortune made a point of keeping her eyes in the other direction. "I would say," said the artist, visibly pleased by her behavior, "that she understood it is not polite to stare at people whilst they eat.

She is very well behaved. From whom did you buy her?" "I bought her from a sailor in town," said the old woman. "She is the eldest daughter of his Ninetails. But I haven't a clue as to why a sailor would own a Ninetails or a Vulpix. Something about they frighten away demons of the sea." "Hah!" said the artist. "A Vulpix doesn't frighten demons. They are its kin. The sea demons spare a ship out of courtesy to the Vulpine, not from fear of her."

The old woman did not contradict. She knew her place better than that. Great Fortune continued to sit with her face to the wall, so close her muzzle was touching it. The artist took another sip or two of soup.

Then he said to the housekeeper, "Please be kind enough to bring a bowl for Great Fortune when you are able, she must be hungry." When the bowl came he called for her politely. Having been properly invited, Great Fortune stopped looking at the other side of the room, and came to sit beside her owner. She took care not to eat hurriedly and soil her red round chin.

Although she must have been very hungry, she would eat only half her soup. It was as though she kept the rest for the next day, wishing to be no more of a burden than she would be able to help. So the days went on, each morning the artist knelt quietly on the floor and painted beautiful little pictures that no one bought: some of Machoke battling it out; some of lovely Pichus frolicking through the garden; some of Spearow flying gracefully through the air; and some of little laughing Umbreon running through the moonlight, or fat Snorlax beating on their chest like drums. While he worked, the old woman went to town with the little money the artist had in his possession.

Great Fortune, having found that she could not help them, sat in the sun, ate very little at all, and often spent hours kneeling before a picture of Jesus Christ. "She is praying to God," said the housekeeper. "She is not, Pokemon have no Gods," said the artist, "You would have believed anything of your little Vulpix." But one day, he was forced to admit that Great Fortune was unlike any Vulpix he had seen before.

He was sitting in his garden, watching as the Pidgey flew over his head, when he saw the Great Fortune leap onto the bird Pokemon as if to kill it. Great Fortune had it underneath her paws, but then something unexpected happened, Great Fortune slowly lifted her paws off of the bird. Unhurt, the Pidgey flew away in a burst of energy. "How kind!" said the artist, taken aback by the act of kindness. He knew that his Vulpix must be hungry and from experience, knew what it was like to go hungry.

"I can't believe I called this Vulpix as demon," he thought to himself, "why she is more kind than a Chansey." Suddenly, the housekeeper burst into the room, "Master!" she cried, "Master, the priest from the church itself is here to see you!" "The priest?" said the artist, not able to believe what he was hearing. The artist just nodded and tried his best to contain his excitement.

"Go! Go! Go buy some tea and cake," and he pressed into the housekeeper's hands the last thing of value he owned, a small ebony Dragonite statuette that has been in his family for generations. But even if the room looked bare and vacant after this, he had to keep his guest entertained for the time being. He almost didn't feel Great Fortune rub against his legs in the rush. In the next room, the priest patiently sat, waiting for the artist to arrive.

The artist quickly sat before him, waiting for the priest to finally notice him. It seemed to be hours before the priest finally seemed to notice him. The priest wasted not a moment in coming to the point of his visit. "The Church desires," said the priest, "a painting of the death of our lord Jesus Christ for the Church. There was some discussion as to who we would choose for such a task, so we drew a name out of the hat, and you were picked. We knew God's will that you would be chosen for such a task. Hearing of your despot lifestyle, I have brought the first payment with me so to relieve your mind of worrying of pay. If you are successful, you will be handsomely rewarded."

With that the priest drew a heavy bag from his side. The artist never remembered the priest leaving but he did, and suddenly, he was all alone in the house. Here was his chance at last at fame and fortune! It felt like it was all a dream, why has God chosen him of all people? Surely there were better artists in the surrounding area than him.

He had been too sad to pray and the housekeeper was always so busy. Could it be that God listened to the prayers of a little Vulpix? He was afraid he would wake up and find that it was all a dream and this event never happened. Perhaps he would never have been brought out of his train of thought if it wasn't for a particular noise he heard.

It wasn't like any sound he had ever heard. The artist, ever curious, went to the kitchen to see what the noise was about. When he entered, he saw the housekeeper and Great Fortune, both jumping for joy. At this, the artist had to laugh, they looked so silly! He then hugged them both, and they all jumped for joy.

_So, what do you think so far? I hope to get reviews on this; I think the actual story was written in 1930, I hope some of you get to read this wonderful story!_


	3. The painting

The Vulpix who went to Heaven

By Mew3692002

Disclaimer: I do not OWN any of the Pokemon, but I do own these off-shoots of Pokemon that I made and my other OCs, or the original idea for the story of "The Cat who went to Heaven" by Elizabeth Coatsworth. I don't even own the copyright for the book by Scholastic Inc. and the Macmillan Company. So you can't sue me! Although you should really read the actual book!

_I hope you are enjoying this story so far, please for the love of God review!_

The next morning the housekeeper got up to start to clean the house. She made the floor shine and made the house look quite a bit cleaner than it was before. She also took special care to clean the ebony Dragonite statue (the priest left before she could sell it), in another part of the house, the artist was awake and getting his clothes on. He was planning on thanking God for his good fortune that has befallen him.

As he arrived at the picture of Jesus Christ, he noticed something odd; Great Fortune was already there, seeming to pray to the picture. He moved over beside her to pray, together they sat before the picture, when he was finished he left the room. He never felt more excited in his life, today was the day he would begin painting the picture of Jesus with the children around him, and that was only the beginning. Today he would begin to paint a picture that will be hung in the Church and seen perhaps by the children of his children's children.

It was a great honor. There were no rolls of paper near him, no little cakes of ink, no brushes, or a jar of fresh spring water. He must strive to understand Jesus before he could paint him. First he thought of the accomplishments of Jesus, healing the sick, the blind, the diseased.

He sat and thought of this for a long time, what he thought the most about was the children who surrounded Jesus. The artist sat in his poor worn clothes on the clean floor. When his housekeeper brought him his simple meal, he imagined that a crowd of servants entered with golden platters of the rarest of foods. When Great Fortune came in, with one paw cautiously put before the other, the artist imagined that a dancer had come to entertain him.

"Welcome!" he said to Great Fortune, but apparently Great Fortune seemed to think the room was empty, for she jumped up into the air and ran with a flourish of her tails. The second day began like the first, the housekeeper rose before dawn and washed and swept the floors like they were dirty, even though the floors were spotless clean. The artist was awake too, and made himself think like Jesus would. And once more he went to pray, there was Great Fortune, like a shimmering fire, sitting quietly before the image with a lowered head.

No sooner did she sense the artist, she moved aside to let him in. After the artist was done praying, he went to his room. Today, he reflected on the children gathering before Jesus. Again he was Jesus, he saw the children, all were poor and sons of farmers or traders, but all were unique in their own way.

The head of the artist hung downcast, he thought he smelled flowers, but the sweetness of them just made him sick. When the housekeeper had brought him his soup, he sent her away without even tasting it, and when Great Fortune wandered in with round watchful eyes, he told her he wasn't in the mood. Evening drew closer, but the artist did not arise. Great Fortune mewed at him, but the artist did not hear her.

For all he saw was the shining hope that was the future of the world, that all their lives were not as pleasant as his, but at the moment, they were happy. So intensely did the artist live through Jesus that the next morning arrived and he was very tired. But then he heard the housekeeper scrubbing and sweeping the floors, he too rose to greet the day. He dressed in his poorly best and sat beside Great Fortune, praying before the image of Jesus.

He then went to his room and imagined that he was Jesus, the artist then felt a great peace and love come over him, and this love for the world flowed out, everywhere it went and no where at all. As he had felt for those children, he now felt for everything that lived and breathed, even for the trees and the rocks, the stones and the waves of the tides, which some day would be their turn to be men and live as men and suffer like them too. When the housekeeper and Great Fortune arrived with the artist's food, he thought first of his first disciples had come to him, and he taught them of the Way they should follow in their everyday lives. He felt himself growing tired in his teaching and carrying happiness through the land.

When he was about to be crucified, he saw the skies open and the spirits of all the lives that he touched come down to bid him farewell. "But where is the Vulpix?" he wondered to himself, for even in his visions he didn't remember any Vulpix being in them. "Ah, the Vulpix refused to pay homage to Jesus," he remembered, "and so by her own independent act, only the Vulpix has the doors of Heaven closed in her face." Thinking of little Great Fortune, the artist felt a sense of sadness before he submerged his thoughts into the persona of Jesus.

But, as young as he was, tired to death. In three days, he had tried to live Jesus's entire marvelous life in his mind. Yet now at least he understood that Jesus he painted must have the look of one who has knowledge beyond this life. So, in knowing at last how Jesus must look, the artist fell asleep and slept for twenty-four hours as though he was dead, while the housekeeper feared for his life and the little Vulpix walked on the tips of her fiery paws. At the end of the twenty-four hours, the artist had awoken, and calling for brushes, ink, spring water, and a great roll of paper, he drew on one end, the figure of the great Jesus reclining upon a bed, his face filled with peace.

The artist worked as though he saw the whole seen before his eyes. It had taken him three days to know how Jesus must look, but it took him less than three hours to paint him to the last fold of his garments, while the housekeeper and Great Fortune looked on in wonder.

_What do you think so far, I'm not sure if I'll include the stories from the Bible (don't know them, send some in if you do know some that may work) and I hope you review this piece of work!_


	4. The beginning

The Vulpix who went to Heaven

By Mew3692002

Disclaimer: I do not OWN any of the Pokemon, but I do own these off-shoots of Pokemon that I made and my other OCs, or the original idea for the story of "The Cat who went to Heaven" by Elizabeth Coatsworth. I don't even own the copyright for the book by Scholastic Inc. and the Macmillan Company. So you can't sue me! Although you should really read the actual book!

_Wow, three people reviewed yesterday! Finally someone appreciates my work! Thanks especially to scarlet pikachu for the awesome review and to Foxyjosh for adding my story into his C2 community! Thanks to all who reviewed! Wheeeee! Here is the continuation of my story!_

In the following days the artist painted the surroundings of Jesus. Sometimes the painting came easy, sometimes it came hard; sometimes the artist was pleased with what he had done, and sometimes he was just disgusted. He would have grown very thin if the old woman had not coaxed him to eat, with a little bowl of soup, or with a hot dumpling. Great Fortune padded softly around the household, quivering with excitement.

She too had plenty to eat these days. Her coat shone like fiery silk, her little whiskers glistened with life. Whenever the housekeeper was not looking, she darted to watch the artist and his mysterious paints and brushes. "It worries me sometimes master," said the housekeeper, when she found the Vulpix tucked under the artist's sleeve for the twentieth time that day.

"She doesn't seem like a Vulpix. She doesn't try to play with the brushes, which I could understand. At night, all the things come back to me that you said when I brought her home in the basket. If she should turn out bad and hurt your picture, I don't know what I would do. The artist shook his head, a new idea had come to him and he was too busy to talk.

"Great Fortune will do not harm," he muttered before he forgot about them all, the old woman, the little Vulpix, and even his own hand that held the brushes. "I really hope so," said the housekeeper anxiously. She picked up Great Fortune, who now wore a large red ribbon around her neck, and headed towards the kitchen. It took at least a half hour before Great Fortune was able to get out of the kitchen.

She found her master still lost in thought and sat behind him like a shadow. The artist, having finished the surroundings, was about to draw the animals that surrounded Jesus as well. He was considering which animal ought to come first—perhaps the great white Mareep, which is the symbol of God's people; or the Ponyta, known to be fleet of foot. There was just so many that were in Jesus' lifetime, until he had decided on the most loyal of them all.

This of course was the Growlithe, they have been known to stand up to foes that were larger and much more powerful than themselves without hesitation, so it is fitting that Growlithe be the first in the painting. He thought about them as puppies, balls of fluff playing in the fields, with round black eyes and moist black muzzles. He then thought about the Growlithe that he sometimes saw on his walks, their black as night Raikou stripes, their innocent look in their eyes, their scruffy red fur, and then he dipped a brush in the spring water, touched it with ink, and drew a Growlithe. Great Fortune came out of the artist's shadow to look at it.

Her whiskers bristled and she put up one paw as though to pat it, and then looked at the artist. She then let out a shrill "Vvvulllppppixxx!" as if she approved of the picture. Next the artist sat on the floor and considered the Ponyta. He thought of its great speed and agility, and its fiery spirit. He had never ridden one, but he did often admire their noble spirit, their shining black eyes, and curved necks.

He liked the way they carried their tails like banners and he thought of its fiery mane and ebony hooves that beat like thunder. He remembered their soft black eyes, and their cream white coloring. He remembered that the Ponyta were the symbol of freedom, and some aspired to be like one someday. He held all these things about Ponyta in his mind until he dipped his brush in spring water, touched it with ink, and drew a Ponyta.

No sooner was the Ponyta drawn than Great Fortune came out of the artist's shadow and gazed with its round eyes at the great creature standing upon the paper. Then she looked at the artist as if to say, "I have no idea what this may be, but I am filled with awe from my whiskers to my many tails."

_I hope you like my story so far, and again, thank you all for reviewing this story! It means so much to me that all who read this reviewed!_


	5. Swablu and Tauros

The Vulpix who went to Heaven

By Mew3692002

Disclaimer: I do not OWN any of the Pokemon, but I do own these off-shoots of Pokemon that I made and my other OCs, or the original idea for the story of "The Cat who went to Heaven" by Elizabeth Coatsworth. I don't even own the copyright for the book by Scholastic Inc. and the Macmillan Company. So you can't sue me! Although you should really read the actual book!

_Wow, the same day I posted the last chapter up scarlet pikachu gave this incredible review! She called my Vulpix story maybe one of the best? I feel honored to have such an awesome reviewer! Well, on with the story!_

The next day the artist again closed himself alone in his room. Sitting on the floor, he decided that above the Ponyta's head a Swablu should be flying. He thought of the beauty of Swablu and the soft beat of their cotton soft wings, how they are such gentle Pokemon, and how they are as blue as the sky. He thought about how lightly they float through the air like they are riding on white puffy clouds.

So after reflecting on the majesty which is Swablu, the artist dipped his brush in the spring water, touched it with ink, and drew a Swablu. No sooner was the Swablu drawn than Great Fortune came out of the artist's shadow and looked at it for a long time. Then she turned quietly to the artist. "There are winds beneath those wings," she seemed to say.

But she seemed to hint that his time was better spent not drawing bird Pokemon. The artist took food, and wandered for a few minutes in his little garden to refresh himself with the touch of the sun and the sound of the wind. He returned to his room and was about to think once more, when the housekeeper appeared at the door and curtsied. "Master, you will give yourself a fever," she said politely.

"You have been painting Jesus, Ponyta, Growlithe, Swablu, and goodness knows what else, all in a few days! It is more than anyone can bear! Your head looks like a scrubbing board and your eyes are almost glazed over. Now our neighbor has just sent her housekeeper to invite you to tea with her and I have said that you would be there directly." Having spoken so firmly, she stood leaning forward with her hands on her knees, the picture of meekness. "You'd have a better chance arguing with a Snorlax than with a woman!" cried the housekeeper. So the artist taken aback took a gold piece out of the priest's wallet and gave it to her.

"Go buy yourself a nice dress," he said. "It has been a long time since you had anything pretty." "Thank you!" cried the housekeeper, very pleased, "and I will shut Great Fortune in the basket while we are out of the house. You would think the picture was sugar, painted with cream, to watch her. I am afraid to leave her alone with it." So it was not until the next morning that the artist was allowed to think in peace about the nature of the Tauros. He thought how ugly they were, and how their horns are always battle scarred and scratched on their foreheads.

He thought how strong they were, how they constantly wanted to battle other Pokemon, and when those are not available, would be seen smashing thick trees. He thought how fierce they are when attacked; they would whip themselves with their three long tails into a frenzy. He thought of their light brown fur accompanied by the thick brown mane, and about their three pearl-like growths on their forehead. Now when he considered the strength and ferocity of Tauros, he dipped a brush in the spring water, touched it with ink, and drew a Tauros.

No sooner had the Tauros been drawn than Great Fortune came out of the artist's shadow and regarded it with an air of someone trying to show dissatisfaction. Then she looked at the artist. "Truly a Tauros!" she seemed to say, but then something about the creature, perhaps the looks on its face, must have tickled her sense of humor, for she started to giggle. Quickly she lifted one little red paw and broke into a series of sneezes.

It may have been that the artist was a little annoyed with Great Fortune, for hardly knowing it himself, had counted on her praise. The artist decided that was enough for today and he was starting to grow hungry so he retired for the day.

_I hope all of you like the story so far! I know scarlet pikachu sure does! Thanks scarlet pikachu for all your kind words!_


	6. The Stantler and the others

The Vulpix who went to Heaven

By Mew3692002

Disclaimer: I do not OWN any of the Pokemon, but I do own these off-shoots of Pokemon that I made and my other OCs, or the original idea for the story of "The Cat who went to Heaven" by Elizabeth Coatsworth. I don't even own the copyright for the book by Scholastic Inc. and the Macmillan Company. So you can't sue me! Although you should really read the actual book!

_Sorry for not posting in a long while, I was busy with the college thing (final year though, almost out!). Thanks VulpixTrainer, scarlet pikachu, and finalpokemon for their awesome reviews! Oh well, on with the story!_

The next day when the artist seated himself upon his mat there was no Great Fortune sitting nearby but discreetly out of the way. For a few minutes he could not help thinking of his little red fox, but soon he was able to turn his mind to the Stantler. He must paint the Pokemon that came to pay their farewell to Jesus and he knew the Vulpix was not among them. At first his thought was one of sadness, but little by little he imagined what it was like to be a Stantler.

What he first thought of was its brown coloring and hard ebony black hooves that helped it to run through the lush green forest with great speed. Then he thought of Stantler's most noticeable feature, its yellow-white horns on its head. He thought about the jet black ball in the center of each horn that made it look like it had huge eyes that were constantly staring. He thought about how they shed their great horns in the winter and how the villages with Stantler living close by are thriving because these single balls can be used as a sleep aid and is the cause for the poaching of Stantler.

He thought of how the Stantler use these horns to create illusions to escape their foes. He thought about all these things about the Stantler, which always seemed to be so proud and stand so tall no matter what the circumstances. He then picked up a brush, dipped it in spring water, touched it with ink, and drew a Stantler. No sooner was the Stantler drawn than Great Fortune came out unexpectantly from the artist's shadow (she had entered so silently that he had never noticed she was there) and looked for a long time at the picture.

She then turned to the artists sadly as if to say, "Is there no room for me among the other Pokemon master?" After that the artist drew many Pokemon. He drew the forest green Celebi which were known for their compassion for preservation of the environment and playfulness. He drew the twin dragons the compassionate Latias and the strong Latios, known to help humans whenever their service was needed.

He drew this and many others. And as the painting of each animal was finished, Great Fortune came to look at it, and with each new drawing she seemed to become sadder and sadder and pulled with her little red paw at the sleeve of the artist, looking up all that time into his face.

_I hope you like this chapter and sorry for taking so long, I have exams and papers to do so I almost never have time!_


	7. Great Fortunes happiness!

The Vulpix who went to Heaven

By Mew3692002

Disclaimer: I do not OWN any of the Pokemon, but I do own these off-shoots of Pokemon that I made and my other OCs, or the original idea for the story of "The Cat who went to Heaven" by Elizabeth Coatsworth. I don't even own the copyright for the book by Scholastic Inc. and the Macmillan Company. So you can't sue me! Although you should really read the actual book!

_Wow, two reviewers posted up reviews! Thanks Dark Magician Girl Aeris for doing what I always do and reviewing every single chapter, that is sooo cool of you! Oh well, on with the story!_

One day the artist sat on his floor and his mind wrestled with a more difficult problem than any that had come up before. The loyalty of the Growlithe, the fiery spirit of the Ponyta, the beauty of the Swablu, the strength of the Tauros, the noble Stantler, the playful Celebi, and the compassionate dragons Latias and Latios. But the artist knew that the Absol too had come to bid farewell to Jesus and had received Jesus' blessing. How could that be?

He thought of the darkness of the Absol, how they were known to cause disasters in their wake; he imagined them lurking in the pitch black shadows of the night with eyes that were as red as fire and a dark scythe to match. They were a danger to all around them, like death itself. Every once and awhile one comes down from the mountains to the villages and a large disaster strikes and then disappears back to its home. They have been rumored to eat small pets of women and children or the child themselves.

What is there in such a creature that Jesus could love? Long and long the artist pondered, sitting in silence, and at last he remembered how he heard some stories about how Absol saved a village from disaster and would face any odds if anyone was in danger. Thinking there might be some truth to these claims; the artist dipped his brush in the spring water, touched it with ink, and drew an Absol. Great Fortune came out from his shadow.

When she saw the Absol she trembled all over, from her thistledown whiskers to her many little tails, and looked at the artist. "If the Absol can come to bid farewell to Jesus," she seemed to say, "surely the Vulpix, who is little and often so gentle, may come too? Surely, surely, you will next paint the Vulpix among the Pokemon who were blessed by the Holy One before he died?" The artist was much distressed. "Great Fortune," he said, gently taking her into his arms, "I would gladly paint the Vulpix if I could. But all people know that Vulpix, though they are lovely, are usually proud and self-satisfied. Alone among the Pokemon, the Vulpix refused to accept the teachings of Christ. She alone, of all creatures, was not blessed by him. It is perhaps in grief that she too is considered to be in league with demons."

Then Great Fortune laid her little fire red head against his breast and cried and cried like a crying child. He comforted her as well as he could and called for the housekeeper. "Buy her a fine fish all for herself," he said to the old woman. "And do not let her come here again until the picture is gone. She will break both our hearts." "Oh, I was afraid she meant to do the painting harm," said the old woman apologetically.

For she felt very responsible for having brought the Vulpix home against her master's will, now that their fortunes hung on this painting for the church. "It is not that," said the artist, and he returned to his thoughts. How tired, how worn he looked, and yet how beautiful! His picture was almost finished.

He had imagined every life. There lay the great figure of Jesus, holy and compassionate. There assembled the Pokemon, paying their respects. The material seemed scarcely large enough to hold all those varied lives, all that gathering of devotion about the welling-up of love and compassion.

But something was excluded. From the kitchen he heard a faint crying, and the housekeeper's voice in vain, urging that Great Fortune should eat. The artist imagined how his little Vulpix felt, so gentle, so sweet, but cursed forever. All the other Pokemon might receive the blessing of Jesus and go to Heaven, but the little Vulpix heard the doors to this wondrous place close before her. Tears came to his eyes.

"I cannot be so hardhearted," he said. "If the priests wish to refuse the picture to be inaccurate, let them do so. I can starve!" He then took up his very best brush, dipped it in the spring water, touched it with ink, and as the very last of the Pokemon, _drew a Vulpix_. Then he called the housekeeper.

"Let Great Fortune come in," he said. "Perhaps I have ruined us forever, but I can at least make her happy." In came Great Fortune, the moment that the door was opened. She ran to the picture, and looked and looked, as though she could never look long enough. Then she gazed at the artist with all the gratitude she had in her little body, all of it shining in her eyes. And then Great Fortune fell dead, too happy to live another minute.

_There is one more chapter to go! I hope you like it so far and this is the part where I always cry in the story! I was practically crying while typing it! Please review!_


	8. A miracle happens!

The Vulpix who went to Heaven

By Mew3692002

Disclaimer: I do not OWN any of the Pokemon, but I do own these off-shoots of Pokemon that I made and my other OCs, or the original idea for the story of "The Cat who went to Heaven" by Elizabeth Coatsworth. I don't even own the copyright for the book by Scholastic Inc. and the Macmillan Company. So you can't sue me! Although you should really read the actual book!

_Okay, this is the final chapter! Yay! Okay, I'd like to thank the following people:_

_VulpixTrainer: You really thought my story was good, thank you!_

_Dark Magician Girl Aeris: You reviewed every single one of the chapters (and cried too at the same part I did!)_

_finalpokemon: You also liked my Vulpix story a lot too!_

_Foxyjosh: You thought it was good enough to be added it to your C2s! Thank you!_

_scarlet pikachu: Thank you for those incredible reviews! And everyone else who read this story and may review it, thank you all! On with the final chapter!_

The next morning, the priest heard that the picture was finished so he decided to see what it looked like. After the artist and housekeeper greeted the priest, the artist led him in to look at the painting. The priest gazed for a long time at it, admiring its beauty and splendor. "How it shines," he said softly.

Then his face grew as hard as a rock. "But what is that Pokemon whom you have painted last of all?" he asked. "It is a cat," said the painter, and his heart grew heavy with despair. "Do you not know," asked the priest calmly, "that the Vulpix rebelled against our Lord Jesus, and did not receive his blessing and cannot be allowed through the golden gates of Heaven?" "Yes I knew," said the artist. "Each person must suffer the consequences of his own acts," said the priest.

"The Vulpix must suffer from her obstinacy and you from yours. As one can never erase work once done, I will take the painting and tomorrow officially burn it. Some other more capable artist's picture must hang in our church." All day the housekeeper wept in the kitchen, for in bringing the little Vulpix home, she had ruined her master. All day the artist sat in his room and thought deeply. His painting was gone and with it that part of his life which he had put into it.

Tomorrow the priests will burn it in the courtyard of the church. Less than ever would anyone come to him now; he was ruined as an artist and all his hopes were washed away in the tide. But he did not regret what he had done. For so many days had he lived in the thought of love and examples of what it meant to be alive, that it did not seem too hard to suffer for Great Fortune's great shining moment of happiness.

All night he sat in the darkness with his eyes open with his thoughts. The old woman dared not to interrupt. He saw the pale light enter through the blinds and heard the dawn wind approaching the house. An hour later, he heard the noise of the people running toward his house. The priests of the church surrounded him; the head priest pulled at his sleeve.

"Come! Come!" they kept crying to him. "Come sir! It is a miracle! Oh, the compassion of Christ! Oh the mercy of the Holy One!" Dazed and confused, the artist followed them, seeing nothing of the village or the road to the church in the darkness. He heard happy voices in his ears; he caught a glimpse of his old housekeeper with her dress in disarray, and a crowd of open-mouthed neighbors.

All together they poured into the church. There hung his picture with candles burning before it. It was as he had remembered it, but no! --- The artist sank down to his knees and started to cry, he then said: "Oh the Compassionate One!"

For where the last animal had stood was now only white silk that seemed to have never felt the touch of ink; and the great Jesus, the One who he had painted, had an arm stretched out in blessing. Who was he blessing you may ask? Under his holy hand knelt the figure of a tiny Vulpix, with her pretty red head bowed in happy adoration. Remember, even if something is shunned in the world of the living as being evil, it never means that it actually really is evil.

_Thank you all who reviewed my story and I hope you like the ending! I am dedicating this story to someone who died during the writing of this story; you may know her, her name was Happyslappypeople of Animal Crossing Community! I hope you are happy finally Happyslappy!_

**The End**


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